Glass Ceilings

by A. m Madden

  She worked a swallow in her throat. “Can I get a glass of water, please?”

  I raised my hand, and less than a minute later Parks walked in with her request, placing it on the table before her. She met my gaze as it occurred to her that every word she had spoken and every tear she had shed had been carefully watched. Silently she lifted the glass and took several sips with a hurt expression on her face.

  Her eyes found mine watching her. “Let’s back up,” I said, softening my voice. I stood and began pacing to channel my nerves. “How long have you been in New York?” My question had little to do with the case and everything to do with my curiosity.

  She looked down at her entwined fingers as they lay on the metal table. “I got here in April.”

  Her admission stopped me in my tracks. “You’ve been here for six months?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you ran away from Chicago to go to Ohio? Then you ran away from Ohio to go to New York? Do you see the trend here? Your brilliant answer to all your problems was to run away instead of dealing with the issue at hand?”

  She cringed at my accusation. “I wasn’t running. I was surviving until I could get back to you.”

  “Bullshit!” I barked with both hands gripping the edge of the table. “I feel like we’re getting nowhere, Angela!”

  She unwaveringly met my glare. Confidence exuded from every cell in her body. When we discussed Ronnie or his murder, Angela would look terrified and skittish. The few times the conversation led to “us,” there wasn’t a question in my mind that she was telling the truth. Hope mixed with desire with each little tidbit she threw my way as she insinuated that she still wanted me…that was until I clearly remembered the pain that she caused when she broke my heart.

  The internal battle this woman was putting me through made me want to hit something.

  As I stood pulsing with too many emotions, I realized I needed to control myself. After purposefully taking in a long, deep, calming breath I took my seat again and asked much more calmly, “Did he know you were in Ohio?”

  “No. He only found me here in New York.”

  “Why didn’t you go to the police?”

  The tears shimmered in her eyes again. She blinked quickly, trying to will them away but failing, when one by one they slowly rolled down her face. Avoiding my glare, she focused on the dull surface of the table while impatiently wiping them away with trembling fingers. “I believed him. By then I knew what he was capable of and I believed every word he said.”

  Rage bubbled up in my chest. I’d never met him, but I’ve loathed him since the moment I heard of his existence. At the time I met Angela, I had no idea Ronnie was involved with the Mob. His fake credentials were good, real good. Not one red flag came through tying him to his Delarro surname or the Polittos. Had I known who he really was, there was no way I would have left her behind in Chicago.

  Now, knowing his history and his role in the Politto family, I was glad the motherfucker was dead. I knew his type…money, power, and no conscience. Add in that the fucker had movie-star looks, and the combination made him an extremely dangerous man. They were all dangerous to the core, especially to those closest to them. Knowledge was power, and things might have gone differently had I known this truth then. I would not have given up on her so quickly.

  A flash of remorse engulfed me. My mind couldn’t help but wander to all the “what-ifs” had I known then what I know now.

  “You should have told me all this back then,” I voiced out loud.

  “I couldn’t. You need to believe me.”

  I watched her face distort with pain. My heart ached for her, for me, for all we lost. I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to detach my emotions from my job responsibility.

  My past involvement with Angela complicated this case. My supervising officer could possibly remove me based on conflict of interests. I had no idea if she was indeed innocent or not, but my gut told me that I needed to protect her in spite of my anger toward her.

  Angela

  JANUARY 2014

  I was so excited that I truly couldn’t contain it. Nick and I spent the last few days talking frequently. In between our calls, he’d sent sexy texts hinting at all he planned to do to me once I arrived. He’d sent pictures of his bed, his couch, and his shower with promises of christening each one of them. The sweet side of Nick came through when we’d chat late at night and he’d tell me places he wanted to take me to. My heart ached for him, my body as well. I couldn’t wait to be reunited and to be wrapped in his arms.

  The day before my flight I taped up the last box containing my personal belongings. I didn’t have much I wanted to take with me. Most of my things I was leaving behind, wanting nothing to remind me of the past few years I’d wasted in Chicago. But it was funny how life worked. Those years led me to Nick, and I’d never regret a minute of them now that I had him.

  Eve was going to mail the few boxes I had once I got to New York. I told her I’d be staying with a friend until I found my own place, and there wasn’t a rush to send my stuff.

  Nick said the case against Mugs was progressing as planned, and it wouldn’t be long before we could tell Eve and Jase the truth about us.

  Although I still felt guilty lying to her, part of me loved having this secret, almost making our relationship sacred and treasured. I knew it was silly, but having just come out of a horrible one, it was a joy to experience all the newness and flirting that comes with new love without sharing it with anyone else.

  When my cell rang, I darted to answer it hoping it was Nick. Disappointed when Eve’s number flashed across the screen, I answered, “Yes, I’m packed. Stop bothering me.”

  “Ang.” Her voice sounded pained and I immediately knew something was wrong.

  “Eve, are you okay?”

  “My dad has been in an accident. He’s in critical condition at Northwestern.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  The drive to the hospital went by in a blur. My uncle Carmine was like a second father to me. He was the core of his family, and all who knew him adored him. This would cause a huge strain on them and it hurt my heart knowing they’d forever be changed if something were to happen to him.

  I wasn’t prepared to see how injured he was. My aunt Dora silently sobbed while holding his limp hand. My cousin Luca looked like he was in shock. He sat beside his dad’s bed. Uncle Carmine was lying lifelessly while machines kept him alive.

  Eve was the first to see me, bolting into my arms as she bawled into my shoulder. “Shh, he’s in the right place to heal.”

  “They had to revive him twice already. His heart isn’t strong enough.”

  I had no words of comfort or encouragement. I truly felt uncertainty bouncing around the room in an unspoken, desperate way, and there wasn’t a thing I could say to help my family feel comforted.

  —

  I wasn’t leaving for New York, and of course Nick completely understood. Through my sobs, he soothed me as best he could over the phone, encouraging me to be strong for Eve and my family. He said he wished he could be there physically, but no matter what he was with me in spirit.

  I spent the next few days after my uncle’s accident helping Eve however I could, by manning the store and ensuring they all had what they needed while they sat vigil.

  My parents flew out immediately, stayed a few days until they needed to get back to their lives in Jersey. We kept hope that with all the love that surrounded Uncle Carmine, it would pull him out of his coma and bring him back to us. But the pessimist in me worried he wasn’t going to make it through.

  Of course, Ronnie had returned and made my life a living hell in the process. He now knew I’d left him, moved in with Eve, and had no intentions of going back. Over the course of two weeks, he tormented me with calls and surprise appearances demanding that I come back to him. The only thing stopping him from physically dragging me back was all the traveling he was suddenly doing. I had no idea if it was for work or personal
, but I was grateful he wasn’t in Chicago a whole lot.

  While closing the boutique one night, the bell above the door rang, announcing a customer had walked in. Without looking up from my task, I said, “We’re closing…” My words halted the minute I saw who came into the store.

  “Hello, Ang,” Ronnie said sarcastically.

  “You’re back.” He followed my gaze to the camera mounted above the front door, before smiling at me in his most charming way. A passerby would see nothing more than a gorgeous man standing before me. In the depths of his eyes, I could see all the menacing things he was completely capable of.

  “Yes, I’m back. How’s Uncle Carmine?”

  “The same.”

  “I guess that’s good news.” He walked closer, picking up a bracelet near the register and examining it with a smile. “My father was so upset when he heard.”

  “Your father? Your father knows my uncle?”

  “Oh, they go way back. I never told you that?”

  “No.” I felt as if his hand punched through my chest and was squeezing my heart.

  He moved around the counter, standing beside me before tucking my hair behind my ear. “Oh yes, they’re old acquaintances. They lost touch recently, but Dad was always so happy that your uncle became so financially successful. Your cousins must be devastated. Please keep me posted on his progress. He’s definitely in our prayers, and I’m sure the Cavellos could use all the positive thoughts they can get right now.”

  The thinly veiled threat behind his words and the feeling of his fingers lingering on my lobe made me sick to my stomach. He replaced the bracelet on the counter with puckered brows as he feigned concern.

  “Such a horrible accident, it’s a miracle he even survived it, don’t you think?”

  An intense chill ran through my body when he stared into my eyes.

  “Get out.” I slipped my hand beneath the counter, hovering my finger over the alarm. He watched the motion my hand made with a condescending smirk.

  “I need to leave town again. I’ll see you when I get back, no?”

  He brought his lips closer to mine and I jolted back, avoiding the contact. “Aw, Ang, I don’t get a goodbye kiss?”

  “What do you want, Ronnie? You can have anyone you want, why me?”

  “Because you’re mine.”

  “Not anymore. Get out!”

  He grabbed my head and crashed his lips against mine. My fingers dug into his wrists as I struggled in vain, helpless against his strength, until he chose to finally release me. “I’ll see you when I get back,” he whispered against my lips, and then stalked out of the store without a backward glance.

  I ran to the door and locked it as my body convulsed with violent tremors. Bile rose so quickly I had to sprint to the bathroom, barely making it before the contents of my stomach emptied into the toilet.

  Chapter 13

  Nick

  OCTOBER 2015

  “Did you have any proof of Delarro’s involvement in your uncle’s accident?”

  “No. All I had was my gut instinct and Ronnie’s words.”

  “Did you go to the authorities with your theory?”

  “No.”

  I leveled her with my glare, allowing my frustrations to get the best of me. The safest course of action until I calmed down was to keep quiet, and continue to stare at her.

  “How long are you going to keep me here?” she asked when I stopped asking her questions.

  Her big green eyes appeared dull and lifeless in her pale face. We continued to stare at each other for a few moments with that familiar electricity bouncing around us, the time spent apart clearly not diminishing its intensity in any way.

  “I missed you so much, Nick,” she added breathily, her hand reaching for mine but then stopping abruptly. “Every day I thought about you, and every day I prayed that I’d get you back.”

  It took all my energy to keep my face expressionless. When her words elicited no external response she became agitated.

  “Look, I didn’t kill Ronnie. I have an ironclad alibi. I’ve never even been to his apartment. I’m sure there are security tapes somewhere from some big brother camera on a street corner or some satellite on Mars that can prove that. Aren’t you guys always watching?”

  Wordlessly, I rose and walked out of the room. I entered the adjoining surveillance room just as she pounded the table with her fists in frustration. Parks and Whitney sat at the desk facing the one-way mirror. George looked up from taking notes, and our eyes met. For the briefest moment I saw compassion pass over his face.

  “How do you want to proceed?” he asked, looking away, obviously trying to remain professional.

  Besides George, no one at the department knew the real me. Standing in that room after the session with Angela, I suddenly felt exposed. Always having been insanely private, I felt like the last hour was equivalent to a handheld rocket launcher blowing a giant hole through my stone walls, allowing every agent in this building to clearly see into my private life.

  “Parks, get me on Rupert’s schedule first thing tomorrow morning, and then you can take off.”

  “Yes, sir.” He rose, leaving me alone in the room with George.

  “We have nothing to hold her on,” I voiced out loud.

  “I don’t think she’s lying,” he said as we both continued to watch her. “We need to let her go, for now. I’ll check on her alibi first thing in the morning.”

  “Okay. I also want the security tapes from Ronnie’s building combed through. Every person that came and left for the last few days questioned, no one spared.” I turned to face him as he sat solemnly looking up at me. “George, I need to talk to her off the record. There are too many pieces missing to this puzzle.”

  He stood and put a fatherly hand on my shoulder. “You’ll probably be pulled once you fill Rupert in.”

  “I know.”

  “I got your back, you know that, Nick.”

  “I know,” I repeated. He patted my shoulder and left the room.

  Through the mirror, Angela covered her eyes with her hands as her body shook from her sobs. I watched for a few minutes with the need to wrap her in my arms to comfort her overwhelming me.

  I remembered the day she called with the horrible news about her uncle. That was the last time I felt this intense need to protect her. Through the phone I felt every ounce of her angst as she cried for her family. If circumstances had been different back then, and I hadn’t just started my new job, I would have hopped a flight to go to her, simply to hold her and try to lessen her pain.

  The emotions that I had felt that night flooded me as I continued to watch her falling apart before my eyes. Suddenly, she pulled her hands away from her face, wiped her eyes, and stared straight at the one-way mirror. Eerily, our eyes locked, almost like she knew exactly where I was standing.

  I purposefully waited ten more minutes before turning off the recording device and reentering room three. She was looking at the door when I walked in, her eyes following me as I strode over to the table. Flipping open the case file, I turned it toward her. “This is where you can be reached?”

  She scanned the fact sheet confirming, “Yes.”

  “You’re free to go tonight. We’ll be in touch.” I snatched the file with one hand and hastily made my way to the door.

  “Nick…”

  “What?” With my back to her, I pinched the bridge of my nose while waiting for her to continue.

  “I have something I really need to tell you, but not here.”

  I jolted around, leveling her with my glare. “From what I gather, you have a lot you still need to tell me. You haven’t told me shit, Angela. I don’t think you understand how serious you being here really is.”

  She stood defiantly, grabbed her bag, and slowly walked to where I stood. Without the metal table separating us, without two sets of eyes watching us, I wasn’t confident my resolve would hold.

  “I didn’t kill him, Nick.” She looked up at me with a s
ad smile on her lips. “I’m not sorry he’s dead, though. I would fight the devil himself to protect the people I love most in this world.”

  Angela

  JANUARY 2014

  Uncle Carmine was the definition of jolly. The man radiated joy, loved life, relished the simple things. Knowing him, he would rather we hung out at one of his homes, blasting Sinatra music and feasting on Italian antipasto, than sit in a stuffy church crying over him.

  The sound of the organ, the smell of incense, and the sobs coming from my relatives were making me physically ill. In a trance, I watched the priest deliver the eulogy, wondering if my uncle was looking down at this scene while shaking his head.

  He would’ve hated his funeral.

  I guess grief can temporarily dull common sense and logic, because his wife and kids would’ve realized this disconnect if they were all thinking clearly.

  He passed a few weeks after his accident, never regaining consciousness, never giving his family a chance to say their goodbyes. His brakes had failed, sending him careening off the highway into a ditch.

  Ronnie’s comments sat heavily in the back of my mind. I needed to tell someone, but feared if my gut instincts were indeed true what that meant…and, if what Ronnie said was true, then why had my uncle hid a relationship with Ronnie’s father?

  My eyes moved over to where my dad sat in the front row, sandwiched between my aunt and my mom. His head was bowed, his eyes closed. Did my father know? My uncle was an open book. Opposite my dad in every way, who was much more private and reserved.

  The last few years he was estranged from his brother, but their love for one another never wavered. Their wives tried desperately to have them make amends; my uncle was more than willing to as well, but my dad remained stubbornly firm in his stance. No one ever knew what caused the angst between the brothers, and we weren’t successful in repairing their relationship.

  The priest said the closing prayer before the organist began “Be Not Afraid.” I always hated that song, associating it with funerals. Listening to the familiar melody didn’t soothe me as it should have but instead made me feel nauseated.